


The New York Night

by oddgit



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Bathroom Sex, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Forgive Me, Harold's a doctor, Hurt/Comfort, John owns a bar, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Smut, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-11-30 16:48:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11467635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddgit/pseuds/oddgit
Summary: John exited the subway station and headed for his apartment. Trying to get the thoughts of the quiet man at the end of the bar out of his head before they drove him crazy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to M_E_Lover for all the beta work as usual!

John poured another glass of scotch for the quiet man at the end of the bar. He had been coming into _John’s bar and grill_ for a while now. He just sat at the far end, away from most of the people and read his book. There was something about the guy that John was drawn to. He didn’t know what it was… but he couldn’t shake it.

John noticed that he would put his book down whenever the Mets were on… so he always made sure that he had the game on one of the TV’s if he came in.

He was a fan of single malt scotch. Something John thought was amusing; he seemed like the kind of guy to like a fine wine rather than the hard stuff.

John had also noticed about the second or third time that he came in, he had a limp and his neck was very stiff. He had to turn his whole body if he wanted to look at something beside him.

Tonight, he looked… tired.

“Here ya go,” John smiled to the quiet man and slid him his regular glass of spirits.

The man looked up at John, pushing his glasses up from his nose, “I didn’t order this…”

“On the house…” John smirked, “you look like you’ve had a rough day.” 

“Well, thank you for the beverage…” He looked at John with his brows raised; asking nonverbally for John’s name.

“John…” He held out his hand, “and you are…?”

“Harold.” His brow wrinkled in concentration, “Wait… if you’re John… then that suggests…?”

“Yup,” John patted the bar, “she’s all mine,” he smiled from ear to ear.

“Well… thank you once more, John.” He nodded to the taller man and went back to reading his book.

John smiled to Harold, making his way back over to the center of the bar. He looked back once, trying to figure out what the feeling he had in his stomach meant. It almost felt like… butterflies? No… that couldn’t be it. He must have eaten some bad chicken wings or something.

One of the regulars caught his attention and brought him out of his daze when they signaled for another beer. He nodded to them and headed towards the cooler.

#

Harold looked down to the glass of alcohol that had just been sat in front of him. He watched as a drop of water made its way down the edge of the glass, falling onto the napkin that it sat on.

He wanted to look up at John, but he couldn’t force his eyes to gaze up. He turned his attention back to his book. _Our Mutual Friend._ Charles Dickens. A classic that Harold read at least twice a year. Harold felt his face turn red as he felt John watching him when he walked away.

He finally set his book down and as soon as he looked up, John was making his way over to some others at the bar and getting them a few beers.

Harold cleared his throat, his mouth suddenly getting dry for some reason. His attention was drawn to John’s defined, tan forearms as he cracked open a bottle of beer and set it down onto the bar.

He snapped himself out of it, took a drink from the scotch, packed up his book and headed home for the night.

#

John closed up the bar and locked the door. He made his way down the 23 St. subway station. He tossed a couple bucks in a homeless man’s change bucket; swiped his subway card and sat down on one of the benches, waiting for the M train to take him back to his apartment on the Lower East Side.

He got up as the train approached the platform. The doors opened to emit the sound of the subway public-address announcements.

**_This is a southbound train heading for Queens. The next stop is 6 th Avenue. _ **

John got into one of the train cars, got his phone out of his pocket and sat down in a seat. There were rarely ever more than a few people on the train this late at night.

He tried to distract himself by surfing the internet on his phone, but his mind kept drifting back to Harold.

**_This is 6 th Avenue Station. Transfer is available to the L. The next stop is West 4th Street, Washington Square. _ **

Harold. He liked that name. It was old-fashioned, and a little geeky. Not geeky but… smart. John thought it was… cute. It fit him perfectly. He had the glasses, the book and just from the tiny conversation John had with him, a high dollar vocabulary.

He looked like a smart rich guy if John were to be honest. John figured he must work on Wall Street. Or maybe for a big computer company. More than likely the ladder.

Harold didn’t seem like the emotionless Wall Street jerk type.

**_This is West 4th Street, Washington Square Station. Transfer is available to the A, C, D, E and F trains. The next stop is Broadway- Lafayette Street._ **

He wondered why Harold started coming into the bar. He came in the first time with a friend. A tall blonde man that _actually did_ look like the Wall Street jerk type.

He wondered why his friend never came with him anymore. He had only seen him in there twice, then he stopped coming. Harold stopped coming for about a week or so too. Then he just started coming in periodically once or twice a week.

**_This is Broadway- Lafayette Street Station. Transfer is available to the B, D, and F trains. The next stop is 2 nd Street.  _ **

John stood up and made his way toward the subway car door. The next stop was his. He held onto one of the metal poles next to the seats.

He had been to war and back but the subway still threw him around like a rag doll when he wasn’t hanging onto the handrail.

He hoped Harold would come into the bar again sometime this week. He might even talk to him again. Or at least try to talk to him.

Harold seemed like the shy and quiet type. A very private person.

**_This is 2 nd Street Station. Transfer is available to the F train. The next stop is Delancey Street.    _ **

John exited the subway station and headed for his apartment. Trying to get the thoughts of the quiet man at the end of the bar out of his head before they drove him crazy.

#

Harold unlocked his apartment door and turned on the light. Bear, his dog, a Belgian Malinois, greeted him at the door, his nose immediately bumping into Harold’s hand for him to pet him.

“Nice to see you too,” Harold chuckled, rubbing the dog’s ears. “Oh yes, yes, calm down.” Harold walked over to the cupboard and grabbed the Belgian Malinois’ treat box, “here you go.” He tossed the dog two treats shaped like bones.

Bear huffed and snuffed in thanks, taking the treats over to his large dog bed at the end of Harold’s king sized SensorPedic deluxe memory foam bed.

Harold sighed, taking off his jacket and tie. He tossed them on his dresser, heading for the bathroom to take a shower.

He couldn’t stop thinking about John. About the way that his heart fluttered in his chest each time John smiled at him.

He couldn’t figure out what was going on. He had never felt like that before. Sure he had snuck the occasional glance here or there when he was at the bar before this… but John had never looked at him before. Never smiled at him.

John’s smile was like a breath of fresh air on a warm sunny afternoon. Harold put his hands on either side of the sink, let his head fall, and let out a deep long breath. He turned on the faucet and threw cold water over his face.

He needed to stop thinking about this. There’s about a .000003 percent chance that John had even a second thought about Harold.

He probably didn’t even remember his name.

Harold turned around and twisted the shower faucet on. He stood under the soft spray of the warm water a little bit longer than usual. He tried to get the thoughts of the masculine and handsome bartender out of his mind before they consumed him.


	2. Chapter 2

John waited the whole week for Harold to come in.

No sign of him.

“Yo, you expecting a delivery, pretty boy?” Lionel laughed at John. “You keep looking at the door.”

John just laughed and poured Lionel another club soda. “Why do you come in here if all you ever drink is club soda?”

“Maybe it’s your pretty blue eyes,” Lionel smirked and took a sip of his drink.

Lionel was an NYPD Detective. John liked him, he was one of his most loyal customers. He usually came in a couple of times a week and ordered food with a soda. Never beer.

He had worked with John at the eighth precinct until John’s abrupt departure a few years back. He had lost touch with Lionel until he bought this bar about a year ago. He had filled John in about how he and Detective Carter were working with the FBI to take down the bunch of corrupt cops in the city called HR. 

John rolled his eyes at Lionel’s comment and turned around to put away the soda. He heard the door open but didn’t bother looking. He had given up on expecting Harold to come in.

But he turned back around, glanced over to the end of the bar and there he was. The smaller, quiet man sitting there in his usual spot. John's heart fluttered and he smiled.

Harold smiled in return to John and pulled his book out of his bag.

John grabbed a bottle of scotch and a glass, heading over to the man he’d been hoping to see. “Thought I scared you off the other night,” John smirked and slid the glass in front of Harold. He tipped the bottle to the glass and the brown smooth liquid poured out.

“Oh no, I’ve just been busy at work.” Harold smiled and nodded in thanks to the drink.

“Oh?” He picked up the bottle to pour some more into the glass, “I think that calls for a double.”

“Oh no, no please. A single is just fine.” He waved his hands in front of him. “Thank you though.” Harold smiled and picked up the glass to take a sip.

John smiled, “No problem. Need anything else just let me know.” He patted the bar and turned around.

#

Later in the night, John saw three men enter the bar. Two he recognized as the trashy officers Simmons and Tierney. The other was a new guy. Some rookie they probably turned into a corrupt piece of garbage like themselves.

“I told you to stay out of here, Simmons,” John said as he wiped down a spot on the bar. 

“Oh, come on, Johnny,” Simmons started. “I’m just here to talk to Lionel.”

Lionel turned around on the stool he was sitting on. He stood up and stood toe to toe with the dirty cop, “There ain’t nothin’ to talk about, you piece of garbage.”

Simmons smiled, “Now that wasn’t very nice.”

John stepped out from behind the bar and pushed Simmons back, “Get out.” His brows raised, “Don’t make me throw you out.”                 

#

Harold watched the whole encounter go down with wide eyes.

John was so calm. He had an icy cool demeanor. Nerves of steel. When he got out from behind the bar, Harold knew that he was about to _put_ Simmons out.

Simmons started to back away once his friend, Tierney, grabbed him and told him it wasn’t worth it. Harold looked away once they started to leave, only to have Simmons pause and knock his book on the ground and then slap the glass from his hand.

“You’re marketing to people like him now, John?” Simmons chuckled, “must be scraping the bottom of the barrel.”

Suddenly, Reese lunged forward… hitting Simmons in a flying tackle. He knocked his gun away, sending it skittering across the tile floor. He felt Tierney kick him in the ribs, sending a sharp shot of pain up his side.

Then Fusco got up unexpectedly, taking out Tierney, punching him in the face and then sending a knee to his groin. He crumpled to the floor in a heap.

John and Simmons were still flailing around on the floor, John had him pinned to the ground, he had landed numerous punches to his face and stomach. He was _kicking his ass._

Harold looked on in shocked amazement.

Lionel pulled him off the dirty cop, “Hey! He’s not worth it! He’ll get his!” As he was pulling him away, John got in one last kick to his chest.

Simmons staggered to his feet, “I’ll be seeing… you later.” He spit up some blood on the floor and kicked the door open, leaving the bar with his other two buddies.

The new guy hadn’t even moved during the fight.

John went back behind the bar and grabbed a frozen bag of peas out of the freezer to put over his swollen and lacerated cheek. “Drinks on the house, sorry about the mess…” He chuckled and everyone cheered at the mention of free drinks.

John walked over to Harold and picked up the book that Simmons had knocked to the floor, setting it in front of the quiet man without a word or even so much as a glance in Harold’s direction. He headed back to the bar to start on the drinks.

#

Harold walked over closer to John, “Let me look at your face,” he demanded. John chuckled at the sudden change from timid and shy personality to demanding and stern.

He removed the bag, “It’s nothing, really… I’ll take care of it.”

Harold’s brow wrinkled, “You need stitches. And an x-ray to make sure you didn’t break anything.” He sighed, “Please, let me take you to my office and stitch you up at least. It’s right down the block and I _am_ the reason you got into the fight…”

John huffed, “He’s had it coming. Don’t worry about it.” He put the frozen peas back to his face, “You’re a doctor?” John asked, surprised. 

Harold sighed, “Yes. Now would you please let me do this? I already feel bad enough as it is. I mean look at this mess…” He gestured to the broken stools and broken glass on the floor that was Harold’s… not to mention the blood.  

“I don’t have anyone to watch the bar…” John replied, cleaning up the glass shards with a dust pan. His heart was telling him to go for it, but his brain said to stand off, Harold was just offering him a courtesy… nothing more.

Harold looked to Lionel, “Detective, is it?”

“Yeah,” Lionel replied with his brows raised.

“Would you be so kind as to watch the bar for John here while I take him to get stitched up?” Harold asked.

“Of course,” Lionel replied with a smirk and hopped behind the bar, “He’ll owe me though…” The detective joked.

Harold looked to John with his brows raised and his head tilted.

John groaned and put the dust pan back in its place, “Fine…”

#

John hopped up onto the exam table in one of the rooms in Harold’s clinic. He had noticed this place before when he was walking to work, but never really paid any attention to it other than the occasional glance.

It was rather big, spacious, and well decorated. “So, what kind of doctor are you?” John asked, trying to make small-talk.

Harold wheeled in a stool and set out a tray with what John recognized as the supplies necessary for stitches.

The adrenaline from the fight had started to wear off and he could feel his cheek and ribs starting to throb. He let out a groan as he moved a certain way that aggravated his side.

“I’m a pediatrician.” He went over to the sink and scrubbed his hands, “I’ll check your ribs too,” Harold continued as he heard John groan.

“Oh. Well I am older than 18… you know that right?” John chuckled.

“Very funny,” Harold huffed and came back over and sat on the stool, “So you won’t need me to act like the needle is a magical instrument that can give you superpowers?” He put on a pair of latex gloves.

John laughed, “nope.”

Harold motioned for John to lie down and picked up a needle, “This is the worst part,” he warned before he stuck the pointed needle into the edge of the cut.

John didn’t even flinch. Through the four different needle insertions, he just sat there and looked straight up at the ceiling. “There, now we wait.” Harold smiled and set the syringe down onto the tray with the other tools.

“You’re good at this,” John started, “I bet the kids love you.”

Harold’s cheeks started to get red, “Well, thank you,” he chuckled. “You know, you didn’t have to do that earlier… I could have taken care of myself.”

“Yeah, sorry. I lost my cool… Simmons and I have history,” John sighed and ran his hand through his hair.

A couple of minutes later, Harold sanitized the area and placed a sterile piece of paper with a hole cut out of the middle over the area that the cut that was on. “Just relax now,” Harold stated with practiced ease. John felt comfortable in his care.

He slipped the needle through a section of skin on one side and then through the skin on the other side. He moved the forceps and the scissor-like needle holder in and out, then tied off the stitch.  

John caught himself watching Harold; watching the little wrinkle in his brow and the way he held his mouth in concentration when he tied off a stitch.

It was the satisfied little soft puff of air he let out when he was finished that made John’s heart flutter.

“All…” Harold dabbed the cut with an alcohol swab, “done.” He smiled and took the paper off and threw it in the garbage.

John sat up slowly. Once he was upright, Harold held a mirror in front of his face to show him. It was swollen and a mix of red, black, and blue around the cut. The row of seven sutures was neat and all but perfect from what John could see.

“Looks great,” he stated. “Thank you.”

Harold took a good-sized bandage out of its packaging and gently placed it over the wound.

“You can come back in a week and I’ll remove them...” Harold smoothed over the bandage… his fingers lingering over John’s cheek.

Before John could even register what was going on, Harold’s warm, tentative lips pressed against his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will John kiss him back? ;) 
> 
> As you can tell, I can't keep these two away from each other for long. No matter what universe.


	3. Chapter 3

Harold didn’t notice that John was watching him. He was so caught up in stitching his flesh back together that he didn’t even bother to look at him.

But when he did, John’s gorgeous blue eyes stared back at him, and Harold felt as if they could consume him with how intense they were.

The want in those blue eyes, the despairing, tender loneliness, was like looking into his own soul.

He didn’t even realize he was kissing John until he responded, lips parted, big hands gripped his hips and pulled him even closer.

When Harold drew back, he was a tiny bit dazed, his lips red and swollen. Both of them breathless and flushed. He suddenly felt the gravity of what had just happened. “Oh my, he stepped back, “I’m so sorry…”

John looked at him and smiled warmly, “Don’t apologize…” He got up from the table and made his way towards the smaller man.

Harold looked to John with confusion, “I shouldn’t have done that… I don’t know what came over me I just…” Harold’s rambling was cut short when John put his hands on either side his face and pressed their lips together again.

Once they parted, John smiled tenderly, “Do you kiss all your patients?” Harold noticed John cringe as soon as he said it, “I’m sorry that was…”

“Wrong…” Harold chuckled, “in so many ways.” He stepped back, “now get back on the table so I can look at your ribs…” John jumped onto the table, “shirt off,” Harold continued.

“Well, well, well you don’t waste any time…” John smirked.

Harold rolled his eyes and proceeded to gently press and palpate John’s side, making sure that he didn’t have any broken ribs. “I think you’ll live…” He took off his gloves and tossed them in the trash.

When he turned back around, he captured John’s lips again.

Harold was dizzy, delirious, his heart raced, his skin tingled as John pulled at his shirt, untucked it from his slacks, those large hands worked under the fabric to press against bare skin.

Harold groaned into John’s mouth, his eyes closed.

“Your place or mine?” John huffed, excitedly.

#

John’s head was an unclear mess. He couldn’t believe what was happening. He knew they should stop… slow down. But he couldn’t seem to pull away.

Harold was _so good._ There was something about him that made John want to wrap him up in a blanket and snuggle up on the couch with him forever.

“Your place or mine?” John huffed.

“Mine… it’s closer…” Harold panted, breaking the hold he had on John’s arms. He put himself back together and picked up his jacket and hat and opened the door.

John felt a surprising thrill race through him as he jumped down from the table and followed the smaller man out of the room.

#

Harold unlocked the door with shaky hands and pushed it open. Then he hesitated, some part of his mind insisted that he was letting an accident of brain chemistry push him into a reckless and risky action.

John breathed on the nape of his neck, and he shivered.

Harold turned and reached out and found John’s hip, and, invigorated by the noise he made, Harold stroked along his ribcage, his back, until John stopped kissing his neck and started to unbutton his own shirt.

“Not here…” Harold whispered, “bedroom…” He tugged John with him by his hand and led him to the master bedroom.

John nudged him down onto the bed, careful of Harold’s unknown injuries… he stepped back into Harold’s space and sprawled out on top of him. He held himself up with his hands, leaning down to capture Harold’s mouth.

He pulled Harold’s hands back onto his naked skin before he could catch his breath or think. He should think about this… just for a second, he really should…

Harold fisted his hand in the hair at the nape of John’s neck. John’s doubts melted away and he quickly made short work of Harold’s belt and unbuttoned his pants.

Harold arched his hips and allowed John to pull them off.

He shimmied down Harold’s body, pulled down his boxers, and took Harold’s cock into his mouth.

“Oh,” Harold responded readily, lost in the sensation of John’s hot mouth on him and soon he was accelerating too hard, too fast. “Oh, John… John, don’t…” He thrust into John’s mouth twice before he was rendered speechless and his vision started to go white.

He managed to pull John away before he came and John quickly took him in hand. Seconds later, Harold gasped and came over John’s hand; his body going limp all at once.

Harold recovered slightly and reached his hand down beneath the elastic of John's boxers and closed his hand around John's hard cock. John moaned and thrust into it.

Between Harold spilling into his hand and the rash and crazy decision to do this with a guy he barely knows, he was about to lose it after just one moment of Harold’s exquisite touch.

Harold wrapped his hand around John’s neck and pulled him down to kiss him open mouthed.

John clutched at Harold's arms and groaned against his chest. He spilled into Harold's hand after just a few strokes.

John collapsed next to Harold. He huffed out a breath of air and turned to look at the smaller man.

Harold was looking up at the ceiling, not saying a word.

John rolled over on his side, “Hey… you okay?”

Harold looked at him, his eyes wide, “I… I don’t do things like this… I’m…” He sat up in bed and shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t even know your last name.”

“It’s Reese…” John whispered, sitting up as well.

Harold smiled slightly and stood up and headed towards the bathroom, “I’ll be out in a moment.”

John looked at his phone, it was almost 1 am. He had to close the bar in an hour, so he cleaned himself up as best as he could and got dressed.

He sighed, realizing that they had both just jumped into the deep end of the pool before they remembered whether or not they could swim. He scolded himself for letting this happen.

He kept waiting to feel a decisive reaction in response to the events that had taken place, and his logical mind had already compiled a list of the possibilities -- shame, joy, guilt, satisfaction, remorse, love, anger. The sensation inside him refused to be classified.

He could have had something nice with Harold… but now he was afraid he’d ruined it.

He thought that maybe Harold might want to be alone, so he grabbed his jacket and started to head out. Stepping out into the hall, John pulled the door closed behind him and set out for the elevator.

Something in his head was begging… pleading… for the door to open behind him and Harold to follow him.

#

As the warm, post-coital haze faded, Harold slowly became aware of the sweat on his skin growing cold in the cool room. After a few minutes, he couldn't stand it any longer. He pulled away from John and sat up, adjusting his glasses as he tried to find where his clothes had ended up. “I’ll be out in a second,” he said absently as he got up from the bed.

He could feel John’s gaze following him as he gathered up his boxers, shirt, and slacks before heading to the bathroom, and though he knew it would only add to John's worry, he couldn't bring himself to look at him.

Harold sat down on the edge of the bathtub. He cleaned up and put on a fresh pair of boxers and a t-shirt.

He looked at his reflection in the mirror. Suddenly he had no idea who was staring back at him. He didn’t do things like this. What came over him? John had just seduced him much easier than he thought possible. No… he _let_ John do that to him. He _did_ the same to John.

It was a mutual act of passion. But Harold couldn’t make this sinking feeling in his stomach go away. He had never lost his control like that before. No one had made him that… _crazy_ … before.

He closed his eyes, taking a moment to draw a steadying breath. He had to talk to John; figure out where they were going to go from here.

#

John was out in the hallway waiting for the elevator when he heard Harold call his name.

“John! Wait!” He hustled over to the taller man.

“Listen Harold, you don’t have to say anything. I get it. I can leave, I have to close up the bar anyway.” John smiled sadly and entered the open elevator doors.

Harold felt himself sinking beneath the weight of the pain in John’s eyes. He put his arm in the doorway and stopped them from closing, “I don’t want you to leave!” He choked out before he could even think. “I just need time to… think.”

John stepped out of the elevator with a smile, “So do I…” He stepped closer to Harold, “But I really do have to go close the bar. That is, if Fusco hasn’t burnt the place down by now…” A small smile tugged at the corner of John's mouth.

Harold chuckled, “Okay… when can I see you again?”

“You know where I work…” John winked, “And here…” He penned his phone number onto a small piece of paper from his jacket pocket, "If I don’t hear from you… I’ll understand.”

“I _will_ be calling you, John.” Harold stood up a little on his tip-toes to press another kiss to John’s lips.

#

John got back to the bar around 1:30. The only person in it was Fusco, sweeping up some dust off the floor.

“Bout time your ass got back,” Fusco huffed, “last time I knew, stitches didn’t take that long.” He put the broom down and grabbed his wallet and keys off the bar, “I’m going home.”

“Thanks, Lionel,” Reese smirked, “Free club sodas for a week.”

“More like a month,” Lionel huffed, “And next time you want to start a bar room brawl with a guy like Simmons… how about you use your head? And I don’t mean literally.”

John rolled his eyes, “Goodnight Lionel.” He walked behind the bar and opened the till to count the money.

“I know you two have a history… but it’s been a couple years John; why don’t you think about coming back? Help me and Carter with the HR investigation. Take that son-of-a-bitch down for real,” he started for the door, “Your back is better now… so what are you waiting for?”

John closed the register and headed for the back, “Go home, Lionel.”

#

Harold went back inside and got in the shower. Letting the near scalding water beat down on his back, he stood with his head bowed, his forehead resting against the tiles. With a sigh, he closed his eyes and let the water stream down on his head, shoulders, and neck. The pressure of the gentle spray bringing to mind the soft caress of Reese's hands, his lips...

Harold shut off the water and stepped out of the shower stall, wrapping one towel around his waist before grabbing a second to dry off with.

Once he was dressed, he made his way out to the kitchen. He found the piece of paper that John had written his number on and looked at it for a moment.

Debating all the possibilities that could happen… He knew that the little flutter he got in his stomach when he thought about the taller, stoic man was a good sign that he should call him.

He unlocked his phone and keyed in John’s number to his contacts, staring at it for a while before he saved it and locked his phone again.

He sighed, smiling a little bit, and whistled for Bear to follow him to bed. The dog had stayed in the living room the whole night. Harold would have to give him an extra treat in the morning.

#

John sat down on his couch, his body filled with a nervous sort of energy that made his muscles ache. He knew exactly how Harold must have felt, not knowing, because he felt it too -- a swirling storm of thoughts and emotions; guilt and happiness and fear and possibly love, all fighting within him, a screaming, intense clash threatening to tear him apart.

Part of him was telling himself that Harold had thrown out the paper and wouldn’t come into the bar again. The other part kept thinking back to the look he had on his face and his eyes when John gave him the paper.

The soft kiss that he pressed to his lips when he left.

He stood up and made his way into the bathroom to look at his face. He took off the bandage and pressed his fingers gently to the red and swollen area. The cut on his cheek looked almost perfectly put back together. He sighed, images of Harold stitching him back up, the kiss he stole in the exam room, floating through his head.

He smiled, stood up and headed to bed.

There was no way in hell Harold threw out his number.


	4. Chapter 4

Harold put his stethoscope around his neck and took his phone from his pants pocket. He kept staring at John’s number in his contact book… but he hadn’t called or texted him yet.

He heard a knock on the door and his secretary came in, “Your nine o’clock is here.” She closed the door behind her, “Room A.”

“Thank you, Miss Groves.” He smiled to her and put his white coat on, “I’ll be in there in a minute.” She started to leave the room before he stopped her, “Miss Groves… may I ask you a bit of advice?”

She turned around and smiled, “Of course.”

“Forgive me but…” Harold paused, trying to figure out how to say what was in his head, “I’ve been out of the ‘game’ as you might put it, for a while. When is it appropriate to reach out to someone whom you would like to see again?”

She grinned and his brow raised, “Dr. Harry had a date?” She teased, “Text him…” She smirked as she looked down at his phone, the contact ‘ _John_ ’ sitting open, “Ask him to go out for lunch.”

He smiled and breathed a sigh of relief, “Thank you… I think I will.”

She winked at him and left, closing the door behind her. He opened a message to send to John, typing; **_It’s Harold._** **_Meet for lunch? Noon, my office._**

He locked his phone, put it in his coat pocket, and headed out to start the day.

#

John had just woken up when he got the text message from Harold. He didn’t have to be at the bar until 2… so he figured lunch with Harold would be great.

He quickly replied, **_Sure. Be there at noon._** He figured that absolutely and I’ll be there in five minutes… was a little too eager.

He got up and headed to the bathroom for a shower. Desperately thinking about what he should wear. More importantly, what would Harold like to see him in?

#

Harold was finishing up his third patient of the day, a five-year-old with pneumonia. “Just keep him in bed for a couple of days, make sure he takes the medicine and let him watch all the cartoons he wants,” Harold joked with the boy and his mother. “Sometimes the best medicine is a little Paw Patrol or Doc Mcstuffins.” He grabbed a lollipop from out of his jacket pocket and handed it to the small boy, “If the cough or his fever gets worse, just give me a call and we’ll go from there.”

He smiled to them and shook his mother’s hand, “Thank you so much doctor,” she smiled to him.

“You’re very welcome,” he gave the boy a high five, “Be good!” He winked and made his way out the door.

He headed for his office. He grabbed his phone out of his pocket and read John’s reply, **_Sure. Be there at noon._**

His face got red and he locked his phone feeling a little flushed, putting it back in his pocket. He had a smile on his face from ear to ear.

He gathered himself, taking a few breaths and then headed out back to the lobby. Miss Groves noticed the dreamy look on his face, “I take it he said yes?”

He looked to her with a smirk, “Is it that obvious?”

“I think it’s adorable,” she grinned to him and turned her attention back to the computer screen sitting in front of her.

#

John arrived at Harold’s office about ten minutes early. He walked into the building and took the elevator up to the fourth floor.

His stomach was a little fluttery but in a good way. He was _excited._ He hadn’t been excited about anything in a long time.

He had checked the cut on his face before he left; the swelling had gone down some… but it was still terribly noticeable and awkward.

He walked in the door and looked around, he hadn’t noticed last night because Harold hadn’t turned the lights on when they came in… but it was fairly… cartoonish. The cutouts of SpongeBob and Patrick on the walls, the large flowers and fish stickers all over the place… John could tell Harold loved his job just by the way he tried to make his clinic comfortable for the kids.

There was a large section for kids to play in while they were waiting, soft cushiony chairs and a large fish tank full of colorful fish.

Just as he was looking around, the woman at the front desk broke him out of his daze, “Can I help you, sir?”

“I’m uh… here for Harold?” John smirked a bit.

“Oh, you must be John.” She smiled, “He’s with a patient right now and then he’s free for lunch until 1.” She motioned towards one of the chairs, “you can have a seat.”

He smiled at her and headed over towards the waiting room chair and sat down. He picked up one of the magazines that were on a coffee table and started to flip through it.

A little while later, Harold came out into the lobby carrying a smaller girl that couldn’t have been more than a year old. She also looked like she had been crying... obviously not having a good time. They were followed by a woman that must have been her mother.

“She clearly doesn’t like the drops,” Harold tickled the girl’s belly which brought out a wet giggle, “but right now that’s the best option. Just have her lie down on her side like we did and keep her like that for about 3-5 minutes after you put the drops in and you should be good.” He pulled a sticker out of his pocket that read ‘I was brave today’ with a lion that had a little band-aid over his forehead pictured on it. “There you go, since you were such a good girl!” Harold held it out for the little girl’s small, pudgy hands to grab. She accepted it, clearly forgiving Harold for being the mean guy with the ear drops.

John’s heart ached at the sight of Harold being so good with the little girl. He figured to be a pediatrician, you have to be somewhat good with kids… but this seemed extraordinary.

He handed her back over to her mom, “If it gets to be a couple days and the drops don’t seem to be working, just give me a call and we’ll get you right back in.”

He waved goodbye to the smiling little girl and then turned his attention to John. Who had an amused smirk on his face, “Just let me go put my jacket in my office and then we can go,” The smaller man gave John a bashful smile, and John felt his heart rate speed up considerably.

John stood up when Harold got back, “So, where does the good doctor eat lunch?” John asked, following the smaller man out the door.

“There’s a diner down the street, would that be okay?” Harold asked, pushing the button for the elevator.

“Of course,” John smiled and entered the elevator.

#

“You did great!” Harold picked the sniffling girl up and wiped some of the tears from her cheeks, “Would you like a sticker?” He asked with a huge smile.

The pouty lip that she gave Harold told him that she did, in fact, want a sticker. He motioned for her mom to follow them and headed out to the lobby.

When he stepped out of the room and headed towards the lobby, he glanced at the clock and realized that it was a little bit past noon.

His heart started to thrum faster as he got closer to the lobby. He’d expected John to not be there and for there to be a voicemail or a text message on his phone from John, calling to say he had to cancel.

He took another step and he felt the butterflies from the first night he talked to John come back. John was there. Sitting in a chair, reading a magazine. “She clearly doesn’t like the drops,” Harold tickled the girl’s belly which brought out a wet giggle.

He held the sticker out in front of the small bundle of joy, “… since you were such a good girl!” He handed her back over to her mother, who thanked Harold and headed out of the office.

Harold turned his attention to the taller man who was looking at him with a fairly large smile on his face. Before Harold’s face turned beat red and he embarrassed himself, he blurted out, “Just let me go put my jacket in my office and then we can go.”

Back in his office, taking off his white coat, he let out a deep breath. A smile crept to his face and he let out a choked laugh. He felt like a teenager again getting asked to prom. He shook himself out of it, grabbed his wallet to put in his inside suit pocket and went back out to the waiting room.

“So, where does the good doctor eat lunch?” John asked, following him.

Harold chuckled, he had the perfect place. A nice little diner down the street. It was quiet, the food was great, and the walk wouldn’t be that long. Meaning that they could have more time to eat… and more importantly to talk.

Harold had a lot he wanted to talk about.

The walk to the diner was quick. Something John appreciated because he really just wanted to talk to Harold.

“So, Harold…” He started when the waitress left after taking their order. “You know my last name… so I think you know more about me than I know about you,” he chuckled.

Harold chuckled, “My name is Harold Finch.” He took a sip of his water, “I’m fifty-five years old. I’m from Iowa originally… I’m an only child…” He thought for a second, “My mother passed away when I was young but my father is in an assisted living facility upstate.  He has Alzheimer’s.”

John frowned, “I’m sorry…”

Harold waved his hand in front of himself, “No need.” He took another drink, “Your turn.”

“Well… my name’s John Reese as you know.” He smiled, “I’m forty-eight. I’m from Seattle… I have a sister and a brother. My father passed away when I was a teenager… My mother still lives in Seattle with my sister.” John cleared his throat, his mouth suddenly dry. Talking about his father’s death never got easier.

Just then, the waitress came back with their food; a hamburger and French fries for John and a BBQ Chicken Salad for Harold. “Well that was quick,” Harold chuckled and unwrapped his silver wear.

“I actually started college at MIT,” Harold said between bites. “But I just… I wanted to _help_ people… and I realized that I wasn’t going to do that sitting behind a desk for the rest of my life… so I transferred to Boston University and then ended up at John’s Hopkins.”

John’s brows raised, “Wow. How’d you end up in New York?” He finished his burger and took a sip of his soda.

“Seemed like a good place…” Harold replied, and that’s when John noticed he clammed up. His eyes drifted down to his food and he didn’t really say much more. He cleared his throat and turned his attention back to John, “How about yourself?”

John sat back in his seat, debating on how much he was going to tell Harold… “Well, I was in the army for four years after High School. Two tours.  When I got out… I didn’t really know what else to do, so I went to the police academy… Was an officer and a detective for a while… and now here I am.”

Harold’s brow creased and John could tell what he was going to ask… “So… did you retire from the police force?”

“I guess you could say that,” John replied. The look on Harold’s face let John know that he got the hint. He quickly changed the subject by looking at his watch.

“Oh dear, it’s almost one o’clock, we should get going.” He stood up and left a fifty-dollar bill on the table.

John looked to him, “No… no, let me get it. It’s the least I could do for you stitching me up last night.”

Harold chuckled, “You can get the next one.” He looked to John and John’s heart exploded with happiness at Harold saying there would be a next time.

“I’ll call you?” John asked. He tried to hide the utter hope in his eyes… but he could tell he wasn’t doing a very good job.

“Of course.” The edge of Harold’s mouth quirked up and he moved in closer to John. He pressed their lips together in a soft kiss and John almost melted against Harold right then and there. “I’ll see you soon.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short Chapter, sorry. The rest will be longer, I think.

“Hey, glasses… you’re a doctor, right?” The Detective scooted his stool closer to Harold who was sitting at the bar, talking to John.

He usually came in two or three times a week now. He had befriended Lionel, especially after Harold had gotten John to clean up the bar a little bit and make it much more… presentable. The bar stools were completely new. They actually had a cushion on them unlike the raggedy old wooden slabs from before.

John had bought new signs, including a large neon blue one outside of the bar that read _John’s Bar and Grille._ New TV’s, a bigger alcohol selection and a semi-new menu with a kid’s section per Harold’s subtle request, were also added.

John was on the opposite side of the bar, pouring someone a drink and taking care of their plate. He tossed the plate into the sink for the bus boy and put back the bottle of Crown Royal Apple.

Harold was basically one of the regulars now, everyone called him “glasses.” Something he didn’t really mind, he supposed that he could be called much, much worse.

“A pediatrician, yes,” Harold chuckled a little bit, “Why do you ask?”

“My kid, he keeps having these stomach pains. Think you could look at him?” 

John came over to them and smacked Lionel on the arm, “Lionel… leave him alone.”

Harold held his hands up, “John, it’s fine, really.” He turned his attention back to the detective, “I’d be happy to. Just bring him in one day this week and we’ll figure it all out.”

John finished making Lionel a club soda and his burger, “here. This is the last free one, it’s been three weeks.”

Lionel huffed, “last time I checked, it was a month…”

John’s brow raised, “Yeah well that was before I bought all this new stuff and hired new staff…” He looked to Harold who had an amused smirk on his face.

“John, the place desperately needed an upgrade. I did you a favor. Look at all the new clientele that comes in here!” Harold chuckled and stood up, “I really have to get going, though. I have an eight o’clock appointment in the morning.” He leaned over the bar and pressed a kiss to John’s lips, “And I won’t be able to come in tomorrow night, I have to stay at the clinic till late to catch up on a few things.”

John groaned, “I’ll call you then?”

“I’ll be waiting.” He gathered his coat and headed out the door.

John turned back to face Lionel, who was staring at him with his brow raised and his mouth open.

John glared at him, “problem Lionel?”

“No…” He chuckled, “I’ve just never seen you like this before. You don’t have a permanent scowl on your face anymore.” He dug into his burger and fries, “I mean you still ain’t no sweetheart but...” He mumbled between bites and swallowed down his soda.

John glared back at him but headed to the back cooler with the biggest smile on his face. Lionel was right. He was happy. _Harold_ made him happy.

#

John closed up the bar and headed for the subway. The New York City nighttime lights never ceased to amaze him. Growing up in a tiny town in Washington, the occasional three-story building was all he ever saw.

When he moved to New York, it was a bit of a culture shock, but by then he had been seasoned by the army and nothing really surprised him anymore.

He turned the corner to move towards the subway when someone grabbed him and pulled him into an empty alleyway.

His fight or flight response kicked in immediately, throwing his elbow back and connecting with the person’s face and knocking him to the ground. But it was too late. Before he could run anywhere, at least seven men surrounded him.

One of the men he recognized immediately, “Well, well, well. Look what we have here. Don’t have your dirtball friend Fusco here to bail you out this time, do you, Johnny?”

_Simmons._

John stood up, “What do you want?”

“Well… you made me bleed, my friend. So, I’m here to return the favor.” Simmons moved closer, “Even John Reese can’t make it out of this one.” He motioned to everyone surrounding John.

“Watch me,” John growled. He seriously doubted that any of the other guys would bring a challenge… but Simmons was skilled…

Suddenly, John saw one of the men behind him move closer to him, yielding something in his hand…

#

Harold was sitting in his office, charting, and going over a few new cases that he had seen in the past week. He was expecting a call from John, shouldn’t he have been home by now?

It was well past two in the morning. He’d probably just stay and sleep at the office. He had a small couch in the back room that turned into a pretty nice make-shift bed whenever he needed it.

It was Friday, so the office wouldn’t be open tomorrow morning anyway.

He set down the chart he was working on and took off his glasses, running his hand over his face in exhaustion, he decided it was probably time for sleep if he could get any.

John probably just forgot to call him. He probably got home and fell asleep or had something to do that meant he couldn’t call.

He stood up from his desk and stretched. He moved over to the couch when he heard a light knock on the door in the front office.

He thought he was hearing things, but then he heard it again. “Who could that be?” Harold whispered to himself.

The only logical option would be either Miss Groves forgetting something… but it was two in the morning… so that was unlikely... Or John showing up after he closed the bar. Suddenly his heart was warm with the thought of John showing up at the doorstep to surprise him.

They hadn’t been intimate since the night Harold had taken him to get stitched up… but Harold was desperately waiting for the chance. He wanted to see if that night was just a heat of the moment kind of thing. Or if they were really… compatible, as he hoped.

He headed out to the door and cracked it open cautiously.

It was John all right. But something was terribly wrong.

“John?” Harold gasped. His eyes grew wide in alarm at his appearance.

“Hey, Harold…” John’s speech was slurred. “Sorry to… bother you… but I think…” He tried to take a step into the office but collapsed unconscious into Harold’s arms.

John’s head was bleeding and it was hard telling where all the other blood that was now getting on Harold, was coming from. He quickly checked for a pulse and when he found one, breathed a sigh of relief.

Harold tried to wake him up, but it was useless. He was out cold. He managed to drag him back to one of his exam rooms and with great effort maneuvered him onto a table. He debated on calling an ambulance, but he had no clue how John got to this state.

Realizing that he would probably have to work on John himself, he rolled his sleeves up and went to work. He still remembered everything he’d ever learned in the field of medicine and then some. He was more than confident in his abilities to treat John’s injuries successfully.


	6. Chapter 6

John woke up with a splitting head ache. He could hear the faint sound of beeping off in the distance, and something that sounded like wheels moving across a tile floor.

“John?”

He felt a warm comforting hand fall onto his arm. _Harold._ He tried to open his eyes, but when he did, the brightness of the lights forced him to squeeze them shut again.

“Oh. I’m sorry…” He heard Harold get up and then heard him flip the light switch to turn off the lights, “Let’s try that again.”

He opened his eyes again, slowly this time, to see a worried Harold standing over him. He picked up his arm and looked at the catheter coming out of it with his brows raised.

“Antibiotics,” Harold informed him. “Do you remember what happened?”

John thought about it for a minute… then it all came back to him. Simmons. A fight. Taking out almost all of them. The guy that got to him first, knocked him down with a blow to the ribs with something hard. Simmons took the opportunity to shoot John in the shoulder and then adrenaline took over and he took down Simmons… beating him pretty badly… then Simmons got away and took off with two of the other guys.

“Simmons…” John rasped. His throat was suddenly very dry and scratchy. “Cornered me on my way home…” He tried to sit up but his side screamed at him to lay back down. He groaned and his hands flew to his ribs.

Harold was right there at his side in a second, “Take it easy…” He held a bottle of water with a straw in it to John’s dry lips, “Drink.”

John sipped the cool liquid, “Thanks.” Just now taking the time to look around, he realized he was in Harold’s office, “How did I…” John closed his eyes, “I’m so sorry, Harold.”

Harold huffed, “Whatever for? I’m just glad you’re okay.” He pushed the damp hair back from John’s forehead, “You have a grade 3 concussion and a couple broken ribs. I took the bullet out of your shoulder, thankfully it didn’t cause severe injury, and few cuts and bruises… but overall you should be fine relatively soon.”

Just then John’s phone rang. Harold picked it up off the counter and handed it to him. John looked at the number and sighed. Answering it, he cleared his throat, “Hey Joey…”

 _“Hey, boss. We’re closed today?”_ John’s brow furrowed, _“I saw the note you left me and just wanted to make sure you’re okay. The flu is going around, my boys got it.”_

John looked to Harold with a smirk, “Yeah… yeah, I’m fine. If I’m not feeling better by tomorrow, I’ll leave you the keys and you can open it and Jack can close.”

_“Okay boss, just let me know.”_

John hung up the phone and handed it back to Harold. “I’m assuming you left the note?”

“You seemed to be out of the woods and I realized that you probably wouldn’t feel like attending work today… or for the next couple days.” He put John’s phone back onto the counter. “You said Simmons cornered you…” Harold swallowed nervously, “Was it just him?”

“No…” John croaked, “about seven or eight guys… I took out most of them… but Simmons and two other guys got away.”

Harold scowled, “I’m calling the police. You need to report this. He’s just going to keep it up!” Harold stood up and took a breath, calming down a bit.

“Harold… they _are_ the police…” John sighed, his head falling to the pillow, “Every one of those guys… I recognized. They all work at the same precinct I used to.”

Harold frowned, returning to John’s side, “You said that you two had a history…” His brows rose and his head tilted.

John closed his eyes. He’d never talked about this with anyone else really. Always had just bottled it up and kept quiet.

But Harold deserved more. Harold deserved his honesty. He felt like that should scare him… make him run… but it didn’t. He had just met Harold but he was one of the people he trusted instinctively.

“Simmons and I were at this gang shoot out. There was this kid. He got caught in the middle.” John grimaced. “He couldn’t have been older than 14… I was trying to get to him and I told Simmons to cover me…” John closed his eyes and let out a breath, “He left. One of the gangs was working with HR at the time and he couldn’t be seen…”

Harold scowled again. But this time he waited for John to continue before he spoke.

“I almost got to the kid before they got him too,” John continued. “This guy got me in the back. Went down like a ton of bricks. I looked up and that’s when I saw the kid get hit. I crawled to him, couldn’t get up or walk. He was lying there in a pool of his own blood and all he kept telling me to do was to tell his mom he was sorry. That he shouldn’t have been down in that neighborhood.”

Harold frowned and grasped John’s hand, “What happened…”

 “I stayed with the kid until the ambulance got there. He was in rough shape but so was I… two more inches to the left and it would have cut my spinal cord in half,” John grimaced, “2 years of rehab and physical therapy and I could finally walk normal again.” John felt Harold squeeze his hand even tighter, “Fusco said that Simmons showed up after I got taken to the hospital. Said he was checking around back.”

John felt his blood pressure rising just thinking about it. “He got away with it too. It was his word against mine so they couldn’t do anything to him… I woke up a day later and Fusco told me the kid didn’t make it. That kid lost his life, his future; I couldn’t walk… and Simmons got to walk free.”

Harold frowned, “So you left the force?”

“Yeah. They said I could come back when I got to 100% again… but I just can’t.” John’s head fell back to the table and Harold ran his hand through his hair.

“Think you can get to the street? I’ll take you to my apartment… it’s much more comfortable than this…” Harold gestured around to the small flat exam table and the small exam room. 

“I think so…” John smiled and tried to sit up.

#

Harold was walking back from leaving the note at the bar. He couldn’t believe what had happened last night. John showing up on his doorstep half beaten to death was not what he had expected.

His heart had dropped at the sight of the bullet wound in his shoulder…

He didn’t know if John had gotten mugged or gotten in a street fight or what. He half expected the police to show up at his door looking for John.

He didn’t know what he’d do or how he’d handle it… but there was no way he was giving John up… surely it couldn’t have been his fault. There was no way he could have been responsible for what happened.

He turned the corner and walked to his office. He opened the door and entered the elevator. He couldn’t stop thinking about the sight of John almost lifeless, lying on the exam table last night.

He was scared to death… checking John’s pulse almost every minute. He let out a breath as the elevator door opened and headed into the clinic.

He was back for about twenty minutes when he saw John start to stir. He went over to his side and placed his hand gently on his arm, “John?”

When John had opened his eyes, Harold’s heart flooded with relief. Even though every ounce of medical training he had in the past was telling him that John was perfectly fine… as silly as it was he was worried that he wasn’t going to wake up.

Harold held John’s hand as he was telling him the story about why he ultimately quit the force. He didn’t even realize that he was squeezing it until he looked down and saw that John’s hand had turned a bit white under his firm hold.

His heart ached for John. Half of him wanted to take on Simmons himself and the other half wanted to make it so John never had to feel that pain again.

John looked at him with an expression that tore at Harold’s heart. The utter remorse in his eyes felt like they looked straight into Harold’s soul. “2 years of rehab and physical therapy and I could finally walk normally again.”

Harold’s eyes grew wide. He couldn’t believe what all John had to endure. What he had to go through as the result of Simmons being a horrible and debauched human being.

Now he understood why John had jumped on him so easily when he came into the bar that night. And why he didn’t want to let him in the bar in the first place.

“Yeah. They said I could come back when I got to 100% again… but I just can’t.” Harold lifted his hand up and gently ran his fingers through the injured man’s hair... trying to give John some form of comfort or assurance that he was here for him and he wasn’t leaving.

Harold needed to get John to his apartment. Get him some place that he could relax and heal. He didn’t think that John would be able to walk all the way to his apartment… and a taxi or Uber would be too risky at this point.

He helped John sit up, eased him off the table and helped him stand up as well as he could. John swayed a bit and grabbed his side, groaning in pain.

Harold grabbed John’s phone off the table, “I’m going to call Detective Fusco… he can take us to my apartment…” Harold started to search for the Detective’s number, “It’ll be much safer that way.”

John sighed and went to take the phone from the smaller man’s hands, but he grabbed his head and faltered, his eyes squeezing shut.

Harold quickly steadied him and helped him to sit down, “I’ll go get you a wheelchair… you obviously can’t walk.”

“I’m fine…” John argued, “You can’t call Fusco… he can’t know about this.”

“I’m calling him… unless you have any other better ideas. I’m going to get a wheelchair and I’ll be right back. Please just… don’t move.” Harold put his hand on John’s shoulder, offering a small reassurance.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments and feedback are appreciated!

The door to the lobby opened and Fusco hesitantly stuck his head in, his gaze roving around the room before settling on Reese who was sitting in a wheelchair. He had nodded off a few minutes after they got into the lobby… Harold had made him take more pain killers before they left his office.

He would be much more compliant that way.

“He okay?” Fusco asked, stepping into the room.

“I suspect that Officer Simmons and the rest of his gang got the worst of it…” Harold stood up and walked behind John to wheel him out to the car. “How close are you to… getting rid of him?” Harold asked quietly as to not wake up John.

“Ehh… Close but it could still take a while…” Fusco opened the door for Harold, “These things are… tough.”

Harold huffed, “John told me about what happened… why he quit being a police officer. I must say that after that night in the bar I was sure I couldn’t dislike a man more… but I was proven wrong.”

Harold nudged John when they got to the car, “John… wake up; we need to get you in the car…”

John moaned and groaned as his groggy eyes cracked open. Surprise evident in his face when he saw Fusco… but then recognition sparked in those blue irises.

“Jesus, John…” Fusco whispered, eyes wide as he stared down at the wound on his friend’s head. The Detective frowned when John just closed his eyes again and groaned. Fusco turned his attention back to Finch, “You get in the back seat first… it’ll be easier to get him in there if you’re in already.”

Finch smiled and nodded in agreement. The Detective seemed like he cared a great deal for John.

Fusco closed the door once Harold was inside and wheeled Reese around to the other side, grunting as he shifted him from the wheelchair to the backseat. Finch helped as much as he could, supporting Reese’s head and positioning his arms a little less awkwardly as Fusco lay him on his side, his head resting on Finch’s lap.

Finch brushed John’s hair back from his brow, careful of the large wound on the top of his head. Harold hadn’t even bothered to think of what it could have been from. Last night he was just so worried about fixing John, that he didn’t really have time to think about it.

It had to be something rather large. A pipe… a baseball bat…

Harold shook himself from the horrible thoughts and turned his attention back to the groggy man lying in his lap.

Fusco wheeled the chair back up to the lobby and made his way back to his car. He shifted the vehicle into reverse and turned in his seat, looking to Harold, “Where to?”

“507 West 26th Street,” Harold replied, shifting to accommodate John’s large frame so that he could make him more comfortable.

#

John regretfully slumped down into the wheelchair Harold had brought him. His shoulder, chest, and head were starting to ache.

He had broken his ribs before. In the army and he had almost forgotten how painful they were.

Not to mention not being able to walk without the room spinning and his stomach churning and feeling like he was going to vomit at any moment.

He felt terrible for putting all of this on Harold. The poor man had basically just met John and now he was tasked with babysitting him while he was hurt.

“Detective Fusco is on his way…” Harold held out a couple of large pills, “Take these so we can get you into the car without you being in pain…”

John took the pills grudgingly. No more than five minutes later, they worked extremely fast and he felt groggy and fuzzy around the edges.

He hated pain killers. They always made him so sleepy.

He glanced up to the smaller man that was sitting next to him. The worry lines below his eyes and on his forehead were well defined. John wanted to tell Harold thank you. To tell him he was sorry for putting him through all this. But his eyes refused to stay open any longer and he slipped into darkness.

#

Harold fussed with the blanket that covered John for the hundredth time. The transfer from the car to the apartment was challenging but they finally managed.

Harold left himself a reminder to leave Bill the doorman a very generous tip the next time he saw him.

Once they got him out of the car and into the elevator, it was smooth sailing. Fusco had stayed for a while, helping Harold get John into bed and settled.

Harold stood up and headed out to the living room. He realized that John probably hadn’t eaten since yesterday afternoon, realizing he wasn’t that spectacular of a cook, he grabbed his cell phone and dialed the number of his favorite take-out place.

#

John woke up suddenly as he heard a door shut outside of the bedroom. He started to get up, realizing that his side didn’t hurt as much as it had at Harold’s office. _Harold’s got the good stuff._ He chuckled, thinking of the pain killers that Harold had made him take.

He didn’t remember much from the time Harold wheeled him down from the lobby until now… but he had flashes of himself lying in the backseat of a car in Harold’s lap. With Harold running his warm and nimble fingers through his hair.

He unconsciously lifted his hand up to his head and gently pressed his fingers to the bandage that Harold had wrapped around his head. Covering up the large gash just above his hairline. The sharp pain when he touched it made him let out a slight gasp of pain.

He saw the door open and Harold carrying two bags of what appeared to be Chinese take-out. “Oh, you’re awake. Good,” he smiled to the John now sitting on the edge of the bed. “Do you think you can make it out to the kitchen table or would you like to eat in here?”

John chuckled at the smaller man acting like John hadn’t just been in a street fight and shown up on his doorstep beaten and bloody. “Here’s fine.”

Harold nodded, “All right.” He sat down stiffly, opened the containers of Chinese food, and offered John his container.

John frowned at how exhausted Harold looked, “Are you okay?” He took the container and sat it next to him, “You look… sore…” He had wanted to ask Harold how he got hurt. But he never really thought the time was right. Hell, now wasn’t right either… but he was drugged and exhausted so why not.

“It’s an old injury… I’m fine.” Harold deflected the question and changed the subject. “So, I’m afraid that I have to go to the hospital tomorrow morning to check on a newborn… but you’re welcome to stay here as long as you’d like.”

John smiled, “Thanks…” John didn’t really know what to say. He didn’t know if the ache in his chest was from the broken ribs or the fact that he wanted to kiss the sweet and generous man accommodating all of his needs.

Harold must have had the same thought because before John could even put the Kung pow into his mouth, Harold’s lips were on his. John welcomed the kiss receptively, a tentative brush of lips, as his hand gently slid up Harold’s chest, fingers splayed, across the base of Harold’s throat.

They broke the kiss hesitantly and John chuckled, “Thank you for everything… I mean it… I’ll try to stay out of street fights from now on…”

The side of Harold’s mouth quirked up… “And bar room brawls?”

“Those too…” John replied sheepishly.

Harold smiled, “Okay, now we really need to eat because I’m starving and I can’t imagine how hungry you must be,” he chuckled, running his hand through John’s hair tenderly.

John noticed that his stomach had started to growl, “I could eat…” He chuckled and laid back, grabbing the food off the bed.

#

John had nodded off while they were lying in bed contented and relaxed after the full meal. Harold had given him some more pain killers and another antibiotic. Hoping to fend off any infection that could potentially start in his head wound and the bullet wound in his shoulder.

He sat up carefully trying not wake up the injured man next to him. He glanced at the clock, realizing that he had pretty much slept through the night. It was no surprise seeing as he didn’t sleep at all the night before. Too busy worrying about John.

But Harold hardly ever slept through the night. A fused upper neck and a reconstructed hip and pelvis elicited many sleepless nights.

He knew John was probably wondering how he got hurt. Everyone did. He couldn’t count how many times someone he knew would ask him what happened to him. He always said the same thing. ‘Just an old injury’, he’d say and quickly change the subject.

He wanted to tell John what happened. It was only fair after John shared with him the story about Simmons… but his story just wouldn’t offer itself up to come out.

He turned back to look at John once more. The injured man was lying on his back, propped up against a few pillows and his arms down by his side. He looked peaceful and Harold didn’t want to wake him, so he headed out to the guest bathroom to shower and get ready to go to the hospital.

#

John woke up with a groan at the sudden pain his ribs delivered. He opened his eyes and the light coming in through the window was almost enough to make him throw up. He blinked, trying to clear the blurry fog that enveloped the room.

After a few tries, he finally managed to gather himself enough to remember that he was in Harold’s apartment. Damn. Harold said he had a concussion… but John didn’t think it was _this_ bad.

He had to brace his forearm against the bed-frame to push himself upright. He stumbled into the bathroom, the dizziness almost forced him to turn around and fall back onto the bed. He looked up at the clock on the way, chuckling at the fact that it was almost noon.

He hadn’t slept that long since he was a teenager. He put his arms on either side of the sink and took a deep breath. He looked in the mirror and his brows raised at his appearance. The large white bandage that was wrapped around his head, the blood matted hair, and the cuts and bruises that covered his head and neck weren’t the most appealing thing to see.

He debated on leaving. Maybe leaving a note for Harold explaining that he had somewhere to be or that something had come up. He splashed some cold water over his face and dried off, trying to get out as much blood from his hair as possible.

He stumbled back out to the bedroom and then, suddenly terribly hungry, decided to make the trek to the kitchen.

#

Harold heard the elevator ding and the doors open, revealing his apartment’s floor. He was carrying a bag of groceries and also a bag of necessities from his office that John would need. New bandages, more medicine, and a variety of other medical equipment.

He dug his keys out of his pocket, opened the front door and went inside. He heard something from the hallway, so he set his keys and bags down, peeking into the hallway to the bedroom.

He saw a struggling John, sweating, and looking like he was about to collapse at any moment. Bear had obviously sensed his distress, he was standing right next to him, looking up at him like he was trying to tell him to go back to bed.

“John! What are you doing? You shouldn’t be up!” Harold took him by the shoulders and helped him back to bed, “What were you thinking? You could have fallen and hurt yourself again. You’re on some pretty potent pain killers you know.”

John sighed and laid his head back onto the pillow, “I was hungry… and when did you get a dog?” John asked, his half-lidded eyes looking to Bear who had also now joined them in the bedroom.

Harold chuckled at the mild look of fear and innocence on the face of the 6-foot plus ex-cop lying in the bed covered with the comforter up to his neck.

“I’m so sorry, I neglected to tell you about him.” He tucked the blanket around John, “That’s Bear,” Harold smiled. “I’ve had him for a couple of years. He’s a good boy, wouldn’t hurt a flea.” He rubbed the dogs flank. “Would you boy? I’ll go make you some food, John.” He planted a kiss to the part of John’s forehead that wasn’t covered by bandaging, “You, stay here,” He said to John. “Bear, come on boy.” Harold headed toward the kitchen.


	8. Chapter 8

“This is going to be unpleasant…” Harold warned before he carefully put the scissor like staple removers under the staples holding the flesh on John’s head together.

It was after hours at his clinic. Miss Groves had left a couple of hours ago, so Harold had John come in so he could take his staples out.

John wanted to do it himself… but Harold put a stop to that. “A barbaric and unsafe procedure,” is what he had called it. The little wrinkle in his brow made John chuckle.

He clipped the staple, pushing it up and out of John’s skin. “One down, seven to go…” Harold said, his glasses were down on the tip of his nose.

John was reminded of the night that Harold had stitched him up… and what happened after that…

He stayed at Harold’s for two more days after the big incident with Simmons. They had gotten to know each other fairly well. Just the cursory stuff… favorite color, favorite movies, favorite books and a few other little things.

John let out a sharp gasp and Harold looked at him, concerned, “Sorry did that hurt? Do you want me to numb you?”

John chuckled, “Just a joke, Harold.”

“Oh. Very funny…” Harold rolled his eyes and continued to remove the metal staples. Once he was finished, he set the scissors down and pushed his glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose, “There… good as new…”A slight flush crept up from under Harold's stiff collar and his breathing began to speed up.

John smiled, “Thank you…” His eyes gazed at the older man. Inviting him for something that he wasn’t sure of. He took a chance and leaned in and ran his lips across the sensitive skin just above Harold’s shirt collar.

John felt him shiver. Heard him gasp as John kissed the side of his neck and then moved slowly to his lips. He started unbuttoning Harold’s shirt until he got to the last one and pulled it open, but Harold stopped him and stepped away when John tried to slide it off his shoulders.

Harold’s eyes were furrowed in thought. His breathing ragged, and John could almost hear the circuits whirring inside his head, going over the pros and cons, weighing the risks and rewards, analyzing data, calculating outcomes…

Had he changed his mind? Did John misread this whole thing? He couldn’t really think or focus with the blood rushing to certain parts of his body at the anticipation of what was happening. His whole body starting to heat up with want.

But then Harold swallowed hard, a determined sort of look replacing the hesitancy, and he stepped forward and eased one hand up Reese's chest, his fingers skating across the side of Reese's neck before sliding into his hair.

"Take off your shirt," Harold ordered and John felt a sudden thrill race through him. He grabbed the bottom of his T-shirt and pulled it off over his head and let it fall to the floor. “Lay back,” Finch put his hands on John’s chest and nudged him to lay on his back.

“Here? Are you sure?” John croaked out, his mouth suddenly dry with anticipation.

“I’ve never been more sure…” Harold whispered.

John closed his eyes as a soft hand stroked the side of his face, fingers sliding through his hair, and he sighed.

It was perfect.

#

Harold lay awake for a short while after their tangle under the sheets.

He was wrapped up against John’s chest. The taller man had fallen asleep right after they had finished.

He took in a deep breath, taking in the scent of John beside him. Basking in the warmth of his body next to him. Harold shifted a bit, making it so his back was in a less awkward position.

John didn’t stir except to press his nose beneath Finch’s ear and mumble, “Harold…”

Harold relaxed into John's hold, rubbing his thumb back and forth across the sleeping man’s stomach. Reese slid a little closer, wrapping him in warmth and safety.

He had, had flings in the past. Had girlfriends and a few boyfriends… but John… John was different. He made Harold feel something deep in his chest that he had never felt before.

He shifted so his head was on John's shoulder again and nestled under his chin. Taking in the solidity of his lover, he let his eyes drift shut. 

He let out a breath and thanked whoever it was that let John Reese walk into his life. Let John Reese slide a glass of scotch in front of him and flash his irresistible smile at him… Pushing his way into his heart.

#

The sun shone in through the window into Harold’s office. John woke up and stretched… He looked over to Harold who was lying next to him, clad only in his boxers and his hair matted and messy.

He was tucked up against John’s side, under his outstretched arm. “Harold…” John whispered, gently trying to wake the sleeping man. The fogginess of waking cleared from his mind.

They had stumbled, intertwined with each other, from the exam room back to the couch in Harold’s office once things started to get hot and heavy last night.

Harold groaned, “Hmmm…?”

John chuckled, he could get used to waking up next to the adorable man, “We have to get up…” He smoothed Harold’s hair back away from his forehead, “It’s morning…”

Harold’s eyes grew wide in alarm, “What! Oh my God.” He jumped up, wincing at the sudden movement. “You have to go… I have patients…” He grabbed his watch off the table and squinted at it, “Miss Groves and the nurses will be here any minute…” He put his hand to his eyes and let out a breath.

John got up and placed his hands on the smaller man’s shoulders, “Take a breath…” He turned Harold around to face him, “Everything okay?”

Harold’s expression relaxed and he let out a breath, “Yes… I apologize. Last night was perfect. I just really don’t want to have someone walk in and us be…”

John took a mental sigh of relief. The last thing he wanted was Harold to go all private person on him the morning after.

“Standing here hot off the sex train in your office in our boxers?” John finished Harold’s sentence for him with a laugh.

“Precisely…” Harold smiled as well.

God, John loved his smile.

“Okay,” John chuckled, “I’ll get out of here.” He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Harold’s lips, “Dinner tonight?” John asked, hoping he wasn’t being too… clingy.

“Of course,” Harold smiled and returned the kiss. “Jean-Gorges?” John sighed again, his shoulder slumping in relief.

“Sounds like a plan,” John replied, buttoning up his shirt. He grabbed his coat, shoving his wallet and keys into his pocket.

“See you tonight,” Harold smiled and John met his lips, kissing him goodbye. He pulled away, biting his lip and winking at the smaller man before exiting his office.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Super steamy chapter lol

“So…” John cleared his throat, sitting up in his chair. They were eating dinner at one of their favorite restaurants. “You never told me how you ended up in New York…”

Harold almost choked on his fish at the unexpected question… “I… it’s a long story, John…” He replied, reaching for his napkin. Across the table, Reese was nibbling on a piece of his chicken.

“Well… we have the rest of dinner and desert…” The side of John’s mouth quirked up.

Harold’s forehead started to sweat. His hands felt clammy, he rubbed them unconsciously on his pants. “I… I’ll be right back.” Harold stammered, getting up and limping away from the table.

He didn’t even bother to look up at John when he left. He didn’t really have a plan as to where he was going. Or what he was going to do when he got there.

He looked up to see a sign for the restroom and headed towards it. He opened the door and luckily no one was inside, leaving him by himself.

He went over to the sink and put his hands on either side of it. He let out a deep breath, looking up at himself in the mirror.

Why couldn’t he tell John about this? It’s not like he hadn’t talked about it before… Only to Nathan… but he had still talked about it.

John had trusted him with knowledge of the most difficult time in his life... when he left the force, and now Harold couldn’t even tell him about how he ended up in New York?

He couldn’t open up to people. Didn’t let people in. Never had.

He splashed some cold water on his face and dried it with a paper towel. He let out another breath and straightened himself up.

He heard the door open, only to turn around and see John standing there. “Everything okay?”

“Yes, I’m sorry… everything is fine,” Harold replied, his face starting to heat up.

“Are you sure?” John moved closer to him, “I’m sorry if I pushed you. I should have just backed off.”

Harold put his hands up, “No, no. It’s fine. You did absolutely nothing wrong… I shouldn’t have…” Before Harold could finish, John’s lips were pressed against his in urgency. He moved Harold and carefully pushed him into one of the stalls.

Harold’s back slammed clumsily against the wall of the small compartment. He couldn’t even register the pain that shot through his spine because his brain was still registering the excitement of what was happening.

He tightened his grip in John’s hair and pulled him back, “What are you doing?” Harold gasped, his eyes blown wide with pleasurable exhilaration.

“You need to stop thinking so much, Harold…” John whispered huskily and kissed him open mouthed. “You need to relax…”

Harold’s hands shook as he unbuttoned John’s belt; John moaned and rolled his hips suggestively.

Harold wrapped his hand around the back of John’s head and pulled their mouths together again. John’s hands moved down to unbutton his belt and slide his pants down to his ankles. He sat down on the toilet seat, guiding Harold to straddle him, slowly lowering himself to sit on John’s legs.

Harold huffed when he pulled John’s cock out of his boxers, already hard and leaking, expelling the lubrication that would ease the way into Harold’s passageway. John swallowed and looked up at Harold.

Harold stood, hovering just over John’s manhood. He felt John exhale against his neck, and then he started to press into Harold as he sat down in unison on Johns cock, and it’s, oh, it’s good.

John groaned softly. He started to thrust gently, carefully holding Harold against him, his face buried into the crook of his neck.

The only sounds in the bathroom were the soft moans and groans that the two of them let out.

John’s hips jerked… his rhythm faltered as he came, and the moan of orgasm that erupted from John made Harold release his own in unison.

Harold gave himself over to the passion of their joined bodies and cried out himself when he came from the sensation of John’ cock inside him as he hit just the right spot.

He went limp in John’s arms, his head falling to rest on his shoulder. “That was…” Harold began to say but then the bathroom door opened.

John put his hand over Harold’s mouth to keep him quiet. His eyes grew wide behind his thick black framed glasses.

They heard footsteps and then someone go into one of the stalls next to them, use the bathroom and then flush.

John kept his hand clamped over Harold’s mouth.

They heard the air dryer turn on and then shut off… and then the door open and shut. A few seconds later… John let his hand fall from Harold’s mouth.

Harold’s eyes were still wide and he let out a breath. Suddenly realizing what they were doing. Realizing how risky and dangerous that had been.

John burst into laughter, his head falling against Harold’s chest.

Harold relaxed a bit and soon busted into laughter as well. They felt like two teenagers who were almost caught by mom and dad fooling around.

Harold stood up, wiping the tear from his eye from laughing so hard. He cleaned himself up, thankful that John had thought to put his boxers and pants on the tank of the commode.

But John wasn’t so lucky… “I think I’m going to have to go commando, Harold…” John chuckled, noticing the soaked boxers.

Luckily his pants were salvageable.

“Oh dear…” Harold groaned drolly, they were both well satisfied as they came down from the post-coital high.

“It’ll be fine… no one will notice.”

John discarded the dark blue boxers into the garbage, cleaned up, zipped up and joined Harold out by the sink.

“I think we look great for two people who just had hot sex in a restaurant bathroom.” John chuckled.

Harold was fussing over his hair and trying to cover up the large hickey that had been left on his neck. “Yes… I feel like I just had sex in the bathroom at Prom…” Harold chuckled.

“Now there’s a visual,” John laughed, “Harold.” John put his hands on his shoulders, “We’re fine.”

“Okay…” Harold sighed, and his shoulders deflated. “Let’s go… I’m sure my fish is probably cold…”

#

“I… I’ll be right back.” Harold stammered, getting up and limping away from the table. It seemed more pronounced when he was stressed.

John sighed, his head falling.

Harold was like a delicate baby bird. He had to be careful with him. Handle him with care.

He had spooked him. Had pushed too far on a subject that he obviously had a hard time with and now he was in the bathroom… probably thinking of an excuse to leave.

The waiter came over, “Is everything all right, sir?”

“Yes, could you refill our glasses, please? And bring out a chocolate soufflé.” John smiled to the young waiter, getting up and heading to the bathroom to apologize to Harold.

To make sure that he didn’t screw this up.

Because Harold was special.

“I’m sorry I kind of pushed you. I should have just backed off.” John stood behind the smaller man, waiting for him to turn around.

All of a sudden, his lips were on his.

He didn’t even think before he picked up Harold and pushed him into the stall. He saw the quick flash of pain that showed in Harold’s face and he regretted it for a moment until their lips met again.

Then John was sitting on the toilet, thrusting into Harold and he was falling too hard, too fast and he should stop… should take a breath… but Harold was here and Harold was so _good._

He gasped, his hips stuttering and filling Harold with his seed.

They both broke out into laughter after they heard the door shut and John loved the way Harold laughed.

The crisp chuckled made something in his heart flutter.

“I think we look great for two people who just had hot sex in a restaurant bathroom.” John tried to cover up the black hole that was forming in his stomach when he saw the look on Harold’s face.

But then he turned to John and smiled and kissed him.

“Let’s go, my fish is probably cold.”


	10. Chapter 10

They walked arm in arm back to the subway station to go back to Harold’s. “Jets or Giants?” John asked.

Harold looked up at him, “Neither…” He giggled, “I’m not much of a football fan. But I know enough to not like either of those teams.”

John chuckled as well, “Good choice; I’m a Seahawks man myself.”

“Mets or Yankees?” John continued their game of “either or”.

Harold just gave John a raised brow look, “As if liking the Yankees is even a possibility…”

John chuckled, “An even better answer.”

They walked a bit further in silence until Harold spoke up, “So I spoke to Detective Fusco…” He cleared his throat, “He said that he’s tried to get you to join the force again… I think I’m inclined to agree with him.”

John stopped walking and took his arm out from Harold’s, “Why are you bringing this up again? I thought we were done with this.”

“Done with this? John, you showed up on my doorstep bloody and almost dead because you got in a street fight with the guy who is the sole reason you stopped being a cop… We were far from done with this.”

John laughed painfully, “Are you kidding me? You won’t even tell me why you’re here or anything about you before you got here. And you’re doing _this_ right now?” His brows furrowed and he backed away from the smaller man.

Harold screamed at himself internally. John was backing away and he wanted to reach out and grab him. Tell him he was sorry.

“John…” Harold started. But he was cut off when John waved his hands in the air.

“No. You know what, I’m not really in the mood for a sleepover tonight, Harold…” John snapped. He turned around and started to walk away.

Harold’s eyes grew wide and he took a sharp intake of breath, “John! No, wait…!” His breath suddenly came short. He couldn’t breathe. He tried to speak, but could only gasp.

John turned around and put his hand on the smaller, gasping man’s back, “Hey… hey… are you okay?”

Harold nodded his head and gasped out a choked out, “Yes.”

But John wasn’t satisfied, “I’m calling an ambulance. You can’t breathe.”

Harold grabbed his arm before he could put his cell phone to his ear, “No… I’m… fine…”

John put the phone back in his pocket, “At least let me take you to get checked out…” John ran his hand up and down Harold’s back, “I know a doctor at Mercy… she owes me. Please, Harold.”

Harold’s breathing had evened out a bit, but his chest still felt like a car was sitting on it, “Fine…” He breathed out, wheezing between words. He knew it was a panic attack. But he didn’t want to make John worry.

He had already almost forced him to walk away once tonight…

“Okay, come on,” John said gently as he put his arm around his back.

#

Harold sat on the table in an exam room with his feet hanging down.

John had pulled a few strings to get a private room. Apparently, he knew the ER doctor that had looked at Harold.

Her name was Doctor Shaw.

He didn’t really explain how he knew her, just that she owed him a favor.

She was… abrupt. Her bedside manner needed a lot of work. Not really saying more than a few words here and there; a few of them were razzing John.

“Well Harold, you look fine to me. It looks like you had a panic attack.” She told him when she came back into the room, holding a clipboard with his test results.

“I see,” Harold replied knowingly.

“So, Johnny boy here was worried for nothing.” Shaw rolled her eyes at the taller man standing up from his chair in the corner. “We’ll get you out of here in a few minutes.” She smiled to Harold, the first time she had smiled all night, and left.

“Well, that’s good news I suppose…” Harold huffed, hopping off the table.

“Yeah…” John replied, getting up from the chair by the door and moving over to the smaller man. “A panic attack? Does this happen often, Harold?” His hands fell to rest on Harold’s knees.

“I’ve had a few in the past… but I haven’t had one in quite a while…” Harold replied. Not telling John that he had them almost once a week when he first arrived in New York with different things triggering them. But now since he’d started seeing John, they had almost stopped.

But when John was going to leave… when they got into a fight and he thought he might never see him again… triggered another one.

“You’re staying at my place tonight.” John started as he tugged on his coat, “I want to keep an eye on you.”

Harold let out a guilty sigh of relief. The truth was that he didn’t want to go home to his empty apartment.

He wanted to spend more time with John. More importantly… he wanted to open up to John. To let him in. Because he was getting a strange fluttery feeling in his chest when he looked at John and he really didn’t think it was because of the panic attack.

#

John lead Harold down the hallway and to his apartment. “Sorry about the mess… but I’ve been busy at the bar and…”

“John…” Harold laughed, “Don’t worry. I’m sure it’s not that messy.”

John smiled, “Okay…” He opened the door and motioned for Harold to enter. Holding his breath for Harold to see the suitcases packed in his Livingroom and a bunch of stuff still in boxes. He had packed it all the night he got out of the hospital.

Ready to leave and never come back.

But he couldn’t.

He never did unpack everything though.

“Oh…” Harold let a soft surprised sound slip out. “Are you… going somewhere?” He smirked a bit, trying to make John feel more comfortable and less embarrassed.

“No…” John chuckled, “I packed it all after I got out of the hospital… two years ago…” John rubbed his hands over his face, exhausted. “Guess I just never got around to unpacking it.”

Harold looked around; the apartment was actually really nice. A spacious loft with big windows and a very large king-sized bed off to the side.

Take away the suitcases and boxes piled on one side of the room, it would have looked like something out of a magazine.

John put his hand on Harold’s back, “Let’s get to bed. It’s been a long night,” He laughed, leading Harold toward it.

“Oh, is that what you call having sex in a restaurant bathroom and a trip to the ER, a long night?” Harold laughed pulling off his shoes.

John lightly put his hands on his Harold’s shoulders, “I really am sorry about tonight…” He turned Harold around to face him, “I pushed you and I shouldn’t have…”

Harold huffed, “I’m the one that should be apologizing… I had no right to bring up you joining the force again… I crossed a line and I’m terribly sorry for that.” Harold waved his hands in the air, “So please… don’t apologize.”

John cupped Harold’s cheek, “How did I get so lucky?” He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Harold’s lips.

Harold hummed in acknowledgment, “I’ve asked myself that every day since I took you home that night…”

John chuckled, “Let’s get some sleep. I’m sure you’re exhausted. I’ll go get you some clothes to sleep in.”

Harold smiled and unbuttoned his vest, slipping out of it.

John left to go to his closet and Harold slumped down onto the bed, his head falling to his hands. Yet another opportunity passed and he hadn’t told John about himself.

Hadn’t opened up. Hadn’t let John in.

“These may be a little big… but I think they’ll do for sleeping, and they’ll be warm.” He held out a large sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants to Harold.

He took them with a smile, “Thank you.”

John nodded, “I’m going to hit the shower; feel free to make yourself comfortable. There’s food and beer in the fridge if you want it… Sorry, no scotch.” John teased and headed toward the bathroom.

Harold changed into the baggy sweatshirt and pants. He looked in the mirror, noticing that it was one of John’s old gray NYPD sweatshirts and dark blue Seahawks sweatpants. He had to roll up the arms and pant legs so he could see his hands and wouldn’t trip. The worn fabric was soft and warm and it smelled like something uniquely _John_ that had permanently seeped into the fabric.

He laid down on the bed and told himself he would rest his eyes for a second.

#

John turned on the shower and started to undress. He tossed his shirt on the floor and started to unbutton his pants.

He let out a breath, and stepped into the shower and let the hot water spray down on him. His head fell to the shower wall and he sighed.

He wished that he hadn’t lost his cool like that. Wished he hadn’t started to walk away.

He made Harold have a panic attack. He’d hurt him.

He felt terrible about it but he hated talking about his past. Hated bringing up the memories. Going back to the police force would only worsen those memories.

Make them feel real again… and he couldn’t do that.

So, he lost his cool. Lashed out on Harold for no good reason. All Harold wanted to do was talk to him about it… try to help… and he had lost it.

He stood under the spray for a while, thinking about how Harold had apologized to him. Apologized for bringing it up, when in all reality… it was John’s fault.

He should have kept his cool. Should have stayed calm. He had prided himself on being cool in situations like that. Hell, it’s what made him so good at his job in the past.

John shut off the shower and stepped out, got dressed and headed out of the steamy bathroom. “Harold…” John started but stopped when he saw that the older man had fallen asleep. He was snuggled up on his side, a pillow propped beneath his legs and his glasses hanging off his face.

John smiled at the sight. He moved over and took Harold’s glasses off carefully, setting them on the bedside table. He pulled the comforter up over the sleeping man and tucked it in around him.

He chuckled at the obviously exhausted man lying in bed. He tossed a shirt over his head and got into bed next to Harold. He pressed his lips softly to the sleeping man’s. As if recognizing John’s lips, Harold's lips parted and he let out a soft sleepy moan.

John propped himself up on an elbow and watched Harold sleep until he nodded off himself.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it for now. I figured this was a good place to stop for this one. I may come back to it later!   
> Hope you all enjoyed it!

Harold woke up to the smell of pancakes and fresh coffee. He hesitantly cracked his eyes open and looked around.

He saw John at the stove, his sleeves rolled up, flipping pancakes in the air. The taller man turned around and glanced to Harold, “Good afternoon.”

Harold looked to the clock hanging from the wall just above the TV.

Half past noon.

“Good lord, why didn’t you wake me?” Harold groaned, sitting up on the bed. “I haven’t slept this late since I was a teenager.”

“Well, you obviously needed it.” John smiled, putting some pancakes onto a plate. He set the plate down onto the table and then went back to the coffee pot. He poured some into a glass for himself and set a glass with a tea bag hanging out of it onto the table as well.

Harold’s heart filled with affection at the fact that John had gotten tea… just for this occasion. For when Harold finally came over.

Harold sat up and moved over to the table, he sat down with a grimace, suddenly realizing how sore he was. Bathroom sex may not have been such a good idea.

“I hope you like pancakes…” John scooped some onto a plate for Harold.

“I do…” Harold replied, digging into the stack of flapjacks in front of him. “Thank you. For letting me stay here last night… I appreciate it.”  

John sat down on the opposite end of the table, “You’re welcome.” John chuckled, “It’s the least I could do after everything you did for me after the whole Simmons ordeal.”

#

It was Saturday so Harold stayed at John’s for a while. They snuggled up on the couch, John’s arm wrapped around the smaller man who was flush up against his side. John ran his fingers softly up and down Harold’s shoulder.

“John… I’d like to share something with you…” Harold breathed out. He was still looking straight ahead at the movie that was playing on the TV while the sound was low. “You asked what brought me here to New York…”

John shifted his attention to him. He doesn’t say anything… just motioned for Harold to keep going.

He feels the older man take a deep breath and then release it, his shoulder’s sagging with the motion, “I did my internship and residency at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore… I was going to be a pediatric surgeon.”

John felt Harold tense.

“My second year of residency... there was a young boy, nine years old.” He paused and took a calming breath, “His name was Andrew… he came in with a slight fever, a pain in his side, all the classic symptoms of appendicitis…” Harold paused again. John could see the memory of that fateful day coming back to Harold in waves and John stayed quiet and let him take all the time he needed.

“I diagnosed him before the results of the MRI came back. The hospital admitted him, set him up in a room and he was scheduled to have surgery in the next couple of hours. It wasn’t deemed an emergency and all of the OR’s were already in use because of an explosion at a factory that night… so all hands were on deck dealing with that.”

John pulled Harold a little closer. Sensing that this wasn’t going to have a pleasant outcome. Harold’s attention was still focused ahead of him.

“About an hour later… I got an emergency page to his room. His breathing had become an issue… his blood pressure had tanked…” He took a deep breath before he continued.

“It turns out that his gallbladder was infected… and it had been left undiagnosed for so long that it had begun to spread to his other organs.”

John grimaced sympathetically as he listened.

“He was going into septic shock because the infection was so severe… We worked on him… and worked on him…” John felt Harold deflate and his eyes closed, “But it was too little, too late. We lost him.”

“Harold…” John started, he turned towards him and pulled him closer to comfort him.

“It was my fault John, I missed it. He died and it was my fault.”

John remained quiet and let Harold say whatever he needed to and unburden himself. “They said that it wasn’t my fault of course… that no one could have detected that that’s what was wrong that quickly… that he would have ended up dead no matter what happened…” Harold cleared his throat and picked his head up.

“When I left that night, I got into my car and headed for home… a few miles down the road, I saw an accident. One car had flipped, and the other was wrapped around a tree. I thought ‘this is my chance to try and make up a fraction for what had already happened that day. I couldn’t save that little boy but maybe I’d be able to help these people.’”

John shifted to accommodate Harold’s leaning form, making him more comfortable.

“No one was alive in the car that hit the tree… a family of three, all dead… But in the other car that had flipped… everyone was miraculously still alive… It was a group of high schoolers, they had just left Prom. I managed to get two of them out on my own.”

Harold shrugged and shifted uneasily at the memory.

“There were two left in the car… I hurried to put a tourniquet around one of the kids’ legs. It was bleeding terribly. I turned around to go back and try to get the other two out of the car… The last thing I remember was a white-hot flash and then… nothing.

“It turned out that a kid from the same high school had gotten drunk and was driving home recklessly, not paying attention.  He claimed he didn’t see me before he changed my world and the rest of my life.”

John’s brow furrowed and he grimaced, kissing the top of Harold’s head.

“I woke up in the ER with one of my closest friends hovering over me, popping my shoulder back into place. I ended up with a shattered pelvis… crushed my C-7 through C-4 vertebrae… internal bleeding… brain bleed… and various other blunt force injuries… I was a mess inside and out.

“I wouldn’t have been able to be a surgeon anymore… I could barely walk let alone stand on my feet for hours on end… I felt that my life didn’t matter anymore…”

John wanted to cry for him, he wanted to go back in time and tell Harold that everything was going to be okay.

Because that’s exactly how he felt after he got shot. Like his life didn’t matter anymore. Like there was nothing for him to do.

Harold continued… “My best friend, Nathan, came to get me. He brought me here to New York… let me stay with his family for almost an entire year while I was recovering.”

“The guy you started to come into the bar with?” John asked, finally speaking.

Harold looked up at him, surprised. “Yes… he helped me open up the clinic… pushed me to get back on my feet. I didn’t want to at first. Wanted to give up all together… but Nathan pushed me… made me realize I had a gift… I could help children…”

The corner of John’s mouth quirked up a bit, “It’s good that you had him…” John leaned over and kissed him tenderly. “Harold. I can’t begin to imagine what it must have been like. You went through something terrible… and I’m glad you felt comfortable enough and trusted me enough to open up to me about it.”

“You’re the first person I have talked to about it, actually.” Harold huffed.

“I’m honored.” John kissed him… Harold tried to pull back from the embrace, but John held onto him tightly, his strength firm and reassuring; Harold resisted for only a second before he relaxed against him and kissed him back as all the tension in his body drained from him. “You can tell me anything, Harold.”

Harold closed his eyes and his head fell against John’s chest. “Thank you… For being here…” Harold kissed him again.

“Thank you, for telling me.”

Harold nuzzled in closer to John, “Every time a child walks into my office, I see Andrew’s face. It’s what keeps me going. I couldn’t save him… but I can try my damndest to save them. To make them feel better or just make them smile… It’s my purpose.”

John smiled and wrapped his arm around the smaller man. He ran his hand up and down Harold’s shoulder, looking up at the ceiling and then to the boxes and suitcases over in the corner of the room.

He stayed there for a while. Not saying anything. His attention remained on the corner of the room before he finally let out a breath, “What do you say we order Chinese?”

Harold huffed with a small smile, “That sounds like an amazing idea.”

#

Harold woke up to the sound of things clattering around the living room.

He sat up to see John moving boxes around the room and unpacking them. He tossed one down onto the couch and looked to Harold, “Sorry I woke you… I figured today was as good as any to get all this clutter taken care of…”

Harold took in the sight amused. “John…” He smiled, trying to contain himself but he couldn’t believe it. John hadn’t unpacked this stuff in two years… and now he was?

John jumped onto the bed next to him and sat crossed legged in front of him, “Move in with me.”

Harold felt like he had the wind knocked out of him. He stared at John, his mouth hung open for a second. He needed to think… needed to make the right decision… “Okay.” He found himself saying.

John looked at him for a moment. Like he wasn’t sure he heard what Harold had said accurately, was Harold actually saying yes?

“Yes… Yes, John. Absolutely.” Harold smiled and pulled him in for a kiss. He felt John untense. Felt him unwind inch by tender inch. John let out a breath against Harold’s lips and his forehead fell to touch his. “Your apartment doesn’t have a strict policy regarding dogs, does it?” Harold chuckled.

“No…” John laughed back. “Bear will love it here.”

Harold smiled, “Yes he will… And so will I.”

John nudged him down and sprawled out on top of him. He dove in and started kissing Harold’s neck, his cheek, his lips. “I love you,” John whispered between kisses.

Harold was quiet for a moment, letting what John just said sink in before he smiled up at him and replied. “I love you too.”

#

“John? Are you ready? You’re going to be late.” Harold called towards the bathroom. He filled Bear’s bowl and rubbed the dog between the ears as he walked away.

He turned off the coffee pot and TV. Heading over to the bathroom. He knocked on the door…

“Come in,” John replied.

Harold opened the door to see John staring in the mirror at himself, his hands down on either side of the sink. “Ready?” Harold asked.

John looked at him through the mirror. He let out a breath, “I guess.” He smiled and turned around to the smaller man. He wrapped his arms around him and kissed him.

Harold broke the kiss and smacked John’s shoulder, “We need to get to work,” He teased with a smile.

John smirked and kissed Harold one more time before he went over to the bedside table and grabbed his detective badge off of it and clipped it to his belt. He paused for a second, looking down at it proudly. His first day back on the force, he was excited.

Harold grabbed his briefcase and coat off the table and walked over to the taller man, “You’re going to do great…” Harold whispered and pressed a soft kiss to John’s cheek. “Now let’s go, we’re going to miss our train.”

 


	12. Wedding Addition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> M_E_Lover gave me the idea for a wedding add-on!   
> So here it is! Hope you enjoy it!

John looked at himself in the mirror. He pressed his hands over and down the front of his tuxedo. Smoothing down the non-existent wrinkles.

He let out a breath. Not quite believing that this was actually happening.

He heard a soft knock on the door and it opened and Fusco let himself inside the dressing room, “Yo, you ready to go? They’re going to think you made a run for it,” The Detective laughed walking over to his friend.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m not good at this sort of stuff, Harold always does these things for me…” John groaned in irritation as he tried again to adjust his bow-tie so it looked at least halfway decent.

Lionel smirked and rolled his eyes, “Let me do it.” Fusco slapped John’s hands away from his silk dark charcoal gray tie. “Good God, you’re helpless.”

John chuckled a bit and just stood there, letting his friend resolve his failed attempt. The last thing he wanted was for him to look anything less than perfect for Harold on their wedding day.

“There.” Fusco stepped back. He smiled, a rare occurrence for the hardened Detective. “You look… happy, John.” He cleared his throat, “But we need to get going. I told Glasses I’d get your ass to the altar on time and damn it we’re getting there.”

John grabbed Lionel by the shoulder before he turned around, “You’re a great best man, Lionel…” He smiled, “Thanks.”

Lionel huffed, “No problem. Now come on, we’ve got to go!” He smiled and put his hand behind John’s back, directing him out into the courtyard.

#

“Harold, we’re going to be late… what’s going on?” Nathan came in through the door of the other dressing room. He walked into the room to see Harold sitting on a chair, talking to his father.

“John’s a good guy, dad. You’ll love him.” Harold smiled, patting his father on the knee. The sad truth was, Harold had already introduced John to his father… a few times.

“Oh, I’m sure I will, son,” His father replied. The nurse that had come with him to the wedding told him that they should go get a seat. So, he stood up and took Harold’s hands in his, “I’m sure he loves you, Harold. Your mother would be proud.” No matter how bad his memory got, he always somehow remembered that his wife was gone.

“Thank you, dad,” Harold smiled and hugged his father.

Soon it was just Harold and Nathan.

“Well, my friend…” Nathan smiled, putting his hands on Harold’s shoulders. “Nervous?”

“I’d be lying if I said I don’t feel like I’m going to throw up right now,” Harold huffed, his head falling to Nathan’s shoulder, “But it’s a good nervous… like I’m excited.”

Nathan smiled and nudged his friend, “This is going to be one of the best days of your life. You _should_ be excited.” He straightened Harold’s tie, “I just still can’t believe that I leave you alone for two months while I go on vacation, and I come back to you moved in with an NYPD cop,” Nathan chuckled.

Harold smiled to his friend, “Thank you, for everything Nathan.”

Nathan put his hands up for Harold to stop.

“No, no. I mean it. After the accident… you were the only reason I got out of bed every day. You pushed and encouraged me to get my life back on track and I can’t thank you enough for that.”

Nathan smiled, “You’re welcome. Now let’s get moving. Don’t want John to think you bailed on him, do we?”

#

Harold first got eyes on John when they met in the courtyard. They were going to walk down the aisle together. So, when he saw John and Fusco walk up, his heart skipped a beat. The worries of the day evaporated like a summer shower onto a hot car.

John looked absolutely stunning in the three-piece suit. Harold had picked it out naturally. He knew it would look good on the six-foot-tall man… but he didn’t think it would look _this_ good.

John smiled at him, “Ready to do this?” He asked, grabbing Harold’s hand.

“I’ve been ready for this my whole life,” Harold replied, a smile appearing on his face.

They stood there and stared at each other for a while. They both had smiles on their faces and watery eyes, “Ahem…” Lionel nudged John, “I think we may want to get a move on here guys…”

Nathan laughed and nudged Harold as well, “Come on, there’ll be plenty of alone time after this…” He winked to John.

“Yes… yes of course…” Harold stuttered, waving his hand in the air.

John held out his arm for Harold to link his with, “Shall we?” He smiled.

#

Harold cleared his throat, squeezed John’s hands tighter and looked into his eyes. “I do.”

John managed to croak out an “I do,” also. Choking back a tear that had threatened to sneak down his cheek.

“You may now kiss.”

John stared deep into Harold’s ocean blue eyes; he cupped his cheek that was slowly turning red.

Harold smiled at him before he slowly leaned into him.

They kissed and the world fell away. It was slow and soft, comforting in ways that words would never be.

It was gentle and chaste and maybe there was no fireworks or sparks, but it’s better than that – it’s a wave of warmth that fills them up, spilling out from their hearts. John’s hand rested below Harold’s ear, his thumb caressing his cheek as their breaths mingled. A kiss like this was a beginning, a promise of much more to come.

The small crowd of people in the courtyard started to clap and cheer, but all they could concentrate on was each other.

They pulled back and Harold smiled.

John smiled back and took Harold’s hand in his. They turned to face everyone and took a step into their new lives together. Into the unknown.

Not a care in the world. Because this. This felt true. This felt good. This felt _right._

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback and Comments would be greatly appreciated. :D
> 
> Thanks to M_E_Lover for all the beta work as usual!


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